


Flying Instead of Falling

by RunningInRoses



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, As much as a one shot can be a slow burn, Character Study, First Kiss, Flower Imagery, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Kurusu's Parents weren't the coolest people on the planet, M/M, Only one line though, Original Mementos Request, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23351956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunningInRoses/pseuds/RunningInRoses
Summary: In a moment of true self-restraint, Akira steps back.He takes in an airy breath, wind thinning out from the height he's at. It scatters his thoughts, peeling them apart layer by layer, uncovering a rotten core bubbling under the surface.If he had wings, he'd fly away.-A fic in which Akira grapples with his past while trying to save a boy from his present. They are more similar than he first thinks.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 12
Kudos: 238





	Flying Instead of Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for picking this up! I'm back on my bs again, writing introspective stories with lots of figurative language.
> 
> If you enjoy this at all or have any feedback, comments are always appreciated!

In a moment of true self-restraint, Akira steps back.

He takes in an airy breath, wind thinning out from the height he's at. It scatters his thoughts, peeling them apart layer by layer, uncovering a rotten core bubbling under the surface.

If he had wings, he'd fly away. Maybe he could just take Arsene's and staple them to his back, try to command them even when they're nothing but feather and sinew.

In another step, Akira leans forward, head dizzy with the idea.

If he willed hard enough, maybe he could reach that place. That pedestal people put him on. Maybe then they'd let him fly free, abandon all their expectations.

Maybe, for once, Akira would make a decision for himself.

When he falls back to the solid ground of the roof, the world keeps turning. Cars whizz on the street below, a gale rushing past, whipping his jacket around his waist.

So keenly he walks this fine edge, and he still falls back every time. Back to the real world. Because he can't just go off flying, running away from his responsibilities.

One final glance at the horizon, lit golden with the last of the sun's beams, and he's on his way.

* * *

Stepping into Leblanc is like being grounded again, a relieving yet uncomfortable weight being placed back on his shoulders.

Sojiro gives him a once over as he passes the threshold, sighing and grumbling to himself about how no work gets done around here.

Morgana mewls quietly on a bar stool, rousing from a nap. Even when Akira walks past him, he doesn't make a comment. Must've been a good dream.

Akira's quick to change out of his school uniform, putting on some more casual clothing before heading back downstairs. Sojiro puts him to work swiftly, instructing him to have the dishes done by the time he comes back from the store.

Out the door he goes with a jingle.

Akira washes away this feeling of guilt with the stains on a plate, scrubbing hard at a particularly boiled on speck of curry. He nearly resorts to scratching it away with his nail when a ping goes off from his pocket.

Morgana, ever attuned to the sound of Akira's phone, pads over, leaping onto the counter to stare.

"Who's texting?" He asks, ears flattening as he tries to shake the residual tiredness from his limbs.

Akira sets down the plate and wipes a hand on a towel, scrounging for his phone. The group chat goes off with fervor, something that's typically unforeseen when they aren't in the middle of a heist. They just stole Okumura's heart a few days ago, and well before the deadline.

**Ryuji:** 'Hey, anyone been watching the news lately?'

**Futaba:** 'Ryuji, watching the news??? I gotta hear this'

**Yusuke:** 'I have to agree. Anything that captures his attention on the news must be worth listening to.'

**Ann:** 'Unless it's another hot dog eating contest >:/ '

**Ryuji:** 'THAT WAS ONE TIME!'

**Makoto:** 'You did seem very excited.'

**Ryuji:** 'Lemme finish, dammit! Apparently there's this thing going around, people claiming to have seen the Phantom Thieves out and about. I've been trying to dig further into it but there's not too much about it'

**Ryuji:** 'There was one pic that was really suss tho. Maybe Photoshop or somethin'

And, to corroborate his statement, the blond sends an image. In it, there's a dark form silhouetted by light, running. There's no denying the fluttering cape and mask that gives the person away though.

It looks… almost familiar-

"Hey Joker, isn't that your outfit?" Morgana pipes up, a thread of concern weaved into his tone. Akira pointedly decides not to stare back, feeling the burning of holes on his cheek.

He can't deny it though. The clothing isn't precise, but it was certainly finely crafted enough to pass.

A block of ice solidifies in Akira's throat, numbing, making it hard to swallow.

He's very quick to type back.

**Akira:** 'No idea who that is. I don't go into the Metaverse without any of you guys.'

Well, that's a bit of a white lie.

When Akira really needs to destress and the gym doesn't give him enough of a thrill, he goes to Mementos. Only the first few floors, of course, where he's much stronger than the Shadows there. It just felt better, using Arsene, setting black flames to creatures that didn't know any better, that didn't understand when he cried during battle.

They didn't know the demons he held inside besides the one manifested behind his back, glowing blue.

His point still stands, though. He's careful with his moonlighting.

**Futaba:** 'On it rn'

And away she goes, Akira presumes, digesting all the info she can get her hands on in seconds. The group pauses, letting her speak when she returns a short moment later.

**Futaba:** 'Some kid's dressing up, relax. He's not causing trouble or anything'

**Makoto:** 'But what if he does start to cause trouble? Or he pretends to be a Phantom Thief and gets incarcerated because of it?'

**Ryuji:** 'His fault, then. We've got nothing to do with it.'

**Haru:** 'Don't say that! What if he's doing it as a cry for help?'

**Ann:** 'Wouldn't he just go to the Phan Site then?'

**Yusuke:** 'Perhaps he's too afraid. Or he's trying to help himself.'

**Makoto:** 'Whatever it may be, we don't know how he knows what Joker's outfit looks like. He may have gotten his hands on some information.'

**Futaba:** 'Unlikely. The press knows nothing about us and there aren't any pics of us because cameras don't work in the Metaverse'

Morgana visibly scratches his head, frowning.

Akira decides to bite the bullet.

**Akira:** 'Know his name?'

**Futaba:** 'Kaiharu Nikima. Already tried, he's got no hit.'

Relief floods Akira's system. He couldn't even imagine having to change the heart of a child, let alone knowing why they'd become so distorted at such a young age.

"We should just leave it alone for now." Morgana advises, "There's nothing linking him back to us. If he gets in trouble then oh well."

A blister forms, sweltering in the heat of the cat's words. Akira claws at it in his chest. He turns to hide the grimace on his face.

In a quick motion, he sends Futaba a private message, shielded from Morgana's peering eyes.

**Akira:** 'Where does he live?'

Futaba, bless her soul, sends him an address, complete with a description of the kid.

He's quick to the dishes again when the bell rings at the door, a groan coming from Sojiro as he enters.

Akira will take his pestering any day if it means obtaining such critical information. 

* * *

When Akira arrives at the corner of Nikima's street, he doesn't expect how eerily quiet it is.

It's broad daylight out, 1 pm on a Sunday, and yet there isn't any commotion. No kids running about, no dogs yapping or homeowners plucking laundry from their drying racks outside.

It hits harder because it reminds Akira of home.

He rounds the corner and walks leisurely down the street, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. It wouldn't be so odd in Yongen, where people are bustling even in the small space.

Here, no one's even walking in the park, centered squarely in the middle of a sea of houses.

He decides sitting on a bench is less weird than strolling up and down the same stretch of concrete and takes a seat, basking in the sunlight.

Just a few more days and the nice weather will retreat, sweeping in the cold fall and leaves and rain. For now, it's nice to take in the little things.

It's far and few between that Akira finds himself doing so, always running about, always fulfilling other people's requests. The soft breeze curling through his hair takes these negative thoughts with it, flying far away.

Perhaps a little too literally.

A paper plane lands in his lap, crudely made, obviously folded many times over.

When he glances around for the source, it comes in the form of a child, around 14 or so, standing stock still a few yards away.

His visage lights the bulb in Akira's mind. Nikima.

Akira attempts a friendly wave, but this just causes the kid to retreat into himself. He seems to fight internally before sucking in a big breath and walking over to Akira.

He almost immediately deflates when the paper plane is held out at arm's length, an offering.

The gesture registers as foreign, something Akira knows all too well. He figures adults aren't as forgiving as he is.

"U-um, thank you." The boy's voice is as low as a whisper, genuine gratitude evident.

"Of course. Tell me, why're you out here all alone?" Akira tries, scanning the area for others. There are none, the neighborhood just as silent even when they are the only ones speaking.

Nikima shifts, deliberating in his head. Yeah, that was weird of a complete stranger to ask, huh?

"Sorry," Akira apologizes, "It's just weird to see no one out on such a nice day."

"No one likes going outside around here." Nikima's voice is still quiet, but very much full of an emotion that Akira is having a hard time pinning down. "Not with me."

Akira's eyebrows furrow, resting his forearms on his knees.

"That's kinda stupid." He says plainly.

"It is! All this Phantom Thief stuff has them cowering inside! They don't even understand that they're trying to help us." Nikima explains, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're a fan, then?" Akira chuckles, glad to hear of positive support in these trying times.

"More than a fan! I wanna be just like them! They're helping people who can't help themselves!" A spark lights in the boy's eyes, his hands balling into fists.

"Wouldn't that get you in trouble? Pretending to be them?"

"I'm not pretending to be them! I just wanna be someone else's hero." And, after, a shy admission, "Plus I think they look cool."

When Akira onces him over again, he takes in how ragged his clothing is, multiple patches covering the legs of his jeans. The carefully crafted seamstry of his shirt, a handmade adornment of bees on the breast pocket.

"You must think they're cool enough to dress up as, huh?" Akira divulges his information, making the kid spike up, ruddy cheeks displaying his embarrassment.

"How do you know it was me? I made the mask all nice and everything…"

"Let's say I had a hunch." Akira shrugs, "I can keep your secret. I just wanna know why you do it."

The silence that laps is an uncomfortable one, the embarrassment melting away into something sadder.

"If nobody knows who I am, I can help without them pushing me away." The admission cracks this fragile part of Akira's heart. He feels like he understands, somewhat. If he had hid his identity, maybe he wouldn't have been caught when he helped that woman. Maybe he wouldn't have needed to hide himself away when he was younger, wearing a mask to protect himself from others.

"Why would they push you away?"

"Look at me! I sew for a hobby! What kind of boy actually does that?" Nikima is receding, features pulled tight in a frown bearing his teeth. "Even my parents… they hate me for it. They wish I acted like a normal kid."

'Wish you acted like a normal kid.'

Yeah, Akira's heard that one before.

Down a school hallway, in the dim kitchen at 3 am, from some crackhead psychiatrist who didn't deserve his PhD.

All those words festered like a seed bomb, blowing up and covering Akira with flowers, white and pure and childish.

Each mutter added another flower in his hair, on his clothing, in his hands.

They marked him, labeled him.

It was hard, trying to shake all of them off when they'd rooted themselves down to his very core.

Being quiet was better than screaming and tearing at them, trying to be himself under a patch of daisies that clung to him, staining him with their scent.

"Me too."

Akira surprises himself as well as Nikima when he mutters that. But he's never felt more honest.

"My parents were like that too. Wished I was just like every other kid." It's a struggle to pull himself together and not cry, remembering what happened.

How he didn't dare utter a word to anyone for years, just took the flowers thrown at him and made a place for them because it was easier than pulling at them.

Only once did he play with the idea of setting fire to the field, letting it consume the countless petals until they all fizzled up into ash, taking him with them.

It lingers when he hangs on that precipice, trying to fly rather than fall in a delicate balance of wind and gravity.

Nikima is quiet, watching as Akira reigns in his thoughts.

"Tell me, would you stop going out at night like that if I told you that the Phantom Thieves can help?" He asks because he wouldn't be able to trust himself if he let this kid get swooped up in his mess all because he admired him.

This gets the kid's attention, who looks both elated and yet confused.

"Can they?"

"If you tell them who needs saving. They've always got their Phan Site open." 

Nikima shifts, eyes trained on his feet. "I don't want them to hurt anyone… but I can't stay like this anymore. My parents… they always talk about bills and scams and money. I feel like they're doing something wrong and I can't convince them to stop." A flash of vulnerability beads in his eyes.

"I can tell the Phantom Thieves personally to take care of it."

A quiet, "Would you?" falls from Nikima. Akira nods.

"I just need their names."

"... Rin and Aojima Nikima." He says, only loud enough for Akira to hear him.

He nods again, standing.

"One more thing. How'd you think of the costume?"

Nikima flushes again, looking down.

"I just- thought it looked like something a thief would wear."

Akira smiles, holds out his hand.

Tentatively, Nikima shakes.

"Akira Kurusu."

He knows how desperate he was to make a friend when he moved here, away from his old life, stripping away the flowers.

A new flower had budded for him in the form of an energetic yellow sunflower, stemming from his heart.

He extended the proverbial olive branch, feeling the solidarity as their hands met.

Instead of stomping on that new flower that grew, Akira had nurtured it. 

He figured it was about time he made a decision for himself.

* * *

Mementos is as dreary as it always has been, subway walls covered in a thick webbing ooze.

He feels a little better than usual though, smiling softly as he adjusts his gloves. Being imitated isn't as much of an insult as it is a compliment.

A sudden clap on his shoulder brings him back to the real world, staring into Ryuji's eyes through his skull mask.

"Ready to go?"

Akira smiles back, nodding.

It was hard convincing Makoto and Morgana to agree with this mission, but in the end, they saw what monsters lie underneath the surface and followed him.

As the team makes their way down the layers of Mementos, Akira white-knuckles the steering wheel, tension evident in his shoulders. After learning more about Nikima's situation, he felt like throwing up.

Futaba, as good as she is at getting info, also leads her to some of the worst underbellies of society.

Haru leans her chin over the front seat, comfortingly rubbing the space between Akira's scapula.

"We're going to make it better, Akira. Don't worry." She smiles, knowing his worry. She's the only Phantom Thief he's had the balls to tell his whole story to, her open and motherly demeanor making it easy to spill his terror.

Sitting down that one afternoon with her really made Akira feel better about himself, shedding all those fears that clung to his skin even after traveling hundreds of miles away from home. She was good at reassuring him that he was fine, that he was normal.

A special white lily grew from his wrist for her, letting him place a piece of his heart there. Opening up was easier after.

He still needs to take that final step, to fly.

He teased the idea, even telling Haru about it. She was nothing but supportive, surprisingly. She said flying would be better than chaining yourself to the ground.

A sudden stop puts Akira in the moment again, leaping out of the Mona bus and running towards the shadows standing in the back of the cavern, trails of tracks stretching beyond.

Two forms, covered in a wispy black mist, take the places of monsters.

As their group approaches, the man scoffs.

"Phantom thieves? What're you doing here?"

"Bet they're trying to get on our good side, get what we're selling." His female counterpart sneers, crossing her arms. "Plenty of people do, selling themselves for our products."

Akira's fists clench, biting at his lip to keep from bursting out.

Ryuji doesn't have the same restraint.

"Y'all are selling drugs for people! That's why we're here!" He shouts, taking a step forward. "You don't care about anything but money and making people suffer!"

"Suffer?" The man starts again, "We help people. We give them what they want. It's easy for them to rely on us if we yank that chain."

"You can't use people as payment!" Ann's shoulders are near her ears, almost subconsciously covering her chest.

"Of course we can! If they offer themselves to us, why would we say no? More business, more money!" The woman grins, sickly, twisted.

"And what about your kid?" Akira finds his voice, feels it tremble. "What about your only child that you're using too?"

"He's our kid, we can do whatever we want with him!" The mother shouts back, "He'll finally be making himself useful to us instead of acting like a queer, sewing in his room."

The hatred bubbles over, Akira feeling the pull of his hand to his knife.

Yusuke's hand stops him. "It's troubling to think you'd put down your child just because of his hobbies. Real parents would let it grow into something amazing."

"What's so amazing about a boy who'll just get pummeled by the world? At least we're giving him something to work for!" The man's skin starts to bleed from the fingertips, a telltale sign of them changing.

"I'm tired of hearing you go on and on about work when it's so indecent!" Haru cries, looking over to Akira. "Now, Joker!"

And, yeah, Akira's done trying to reason with bigots.

He throws down a cover of smoke, Morgana and Ryuji following behind him as they all go to strike at the shadows.

A gust of wind has them pushed back, clearing away their cover.

The Garuda had used a wind skill on them, the Rangda behind waiting to unleash her strikes, long claws threatening to tear them apart.

Akira has to pull Ryuji by the collar out of the way of a very direct gust of wind that would've knocked him flat on his ass.

Knowing a particular shadow's weaknesses has always come in handy, especially now. Even with Makoto on the back lines shouting what they are to him, Akira knows it deep down.

He brandishes his gun and fires at the Garuda, getting a few good solid hits in its wings that made it fall to the ground.

When he knows for sure it's down for good, he claps hands with Ryuji and has him use a burst of electricity on the Rangda, who is distracted by Haru and Morgana teasing it with false hits.

It cries out, shaking violently as it too falls. The group stalks over the two shadows, holding their guns out to hold them up.

They wait on Akira.

Akira pauses, seeing the wings on the Garuda's back, bullet holes tearing them apart.

He decides to put them out of their misery.

A good minute of hacking leaves the shadows back in their normal, human-like state.

"We… understand now." The man mutters, looking at his hands. "We've been so terrible to everyone… to our son."

"Make it right. Give everyone what they really want, not just a promise of an escape." Akira commands them.

They stare at him, cold eyes giving no outward emotion.

When their treasure appears, Akira stares at it, cold.

A spool of thread.

It burns a hole in his pocket as they ride back to the entrance of Mementos.

* * *

After celebrating a job well done at Leblanc, everyone's rising to get home. First to go was Yusuke, living nearly on the other side of the city, followed closely by Makoto, Ann. Futaba waves goodbye after a few more minutes, rambling to herself about a new game coming out soon. Haru gives Akira a big hug as she goes almost a half-hour after everyone else, whispering encouragement in his ear.

And then there's Ryuji.

Plus Morgana, but he's sleeping soundly on the cushion of the booth.

Ryuji's always the first one to arrive, last one to leave. It's a comfort like no other, having his best friend talk him through all that's happened. Right now he's enjoying the soda Akira had given him nearly an hour ago, barely touched.

He's quick to voice his concern, "What's up?"

"That was effed up, man. Hurting your kid just cause they like something you don't." His frown pulls down his cheeks. "Hate parents like that. Hate people like that."

"That's why we do this, after all." Akira chuckles, trying to release some of the buzzing energy under his skin. It makes his heartbeat 20 times as fast.

When that doesn't work, he stands on jittering legs, holding out a hand.

"Lemme show you something."

Ryuji doesn't hesitate, wrapping his fingers around Akira's wrist as he's hauled to his feet.

Akira takes him upstairs, climbing the staircase into his room. The walls are decorated ceiling to floor in knickknacks: stars on the rafters from that one time he went to the planetarium with Yusuke, a gigantic working chocolate fountain that he sometimes indulges in too much… the collectible ramen bowl from that one time in Ogikubo.

In a swift motion, Akira hoists his window open, stepping onto the ledge. He scrambles up the side of the building with the help of the drainpipe, holding tight to Ryuji because he knows it would be hard on his knee. When they're both properly situated on the roof, Akira flops down and puts his hands behind his head. Ryuji follows, but not without nudging him in the ribs.

"Okay Phantom Thief, cute hiding spot."

"Hang out spot, mind you." Akira shoots back, rolling his eyes. And then he sits up to hide his face because "You're the first one I've shown it to." And he stares up at the stars because maybe they'll just swallow him whole, dazzling so bright in the dark sky.

He hears Ryuji sit up too, an airy chuckle coming from him.

"Well, I'm glad to be the first. It's real cool up here." And they both fall into a comfortable lapse of silence, letting the atmosphere rush around them. The wind picks up in the late night, whooshing through the neighborhood and over the rooftop, a chill running up Akira's spine.

Now more than ever he wants to reach the heavens, live among those stars that dazzle him. He almost wants to reach out and touch them. When he does, it's a hand on Ryuji's shoulder.

He sits there, expression schooled into neutrality besides slightly raised eyebrows.

Akira can't help himself. The sunflower in his heart grows, consuming him, making it harder to breathe.

He just wants to know what it's like to fly, to be free of responsibilities, of expectations.

He wants to cherish the voice he gained back.

When he leans forward, Ryuji takes the hint and meets him partway.

A soft billow envelopes them, taking Akira's hand and moving it to Ryuji's neck.

The world dissolves until it's just them, connected for only a moment but it feels like forever.

When they pull apart, the pounding of Akira's heart has that sunflower popping out of his ears, his mouth.

It's like being caught on a gust, riding a high.

Ryuji places a hand on Akira's cheek and drags him back in.

Maybe Akira had fallen off that edge, but he landed in a patch of wildflowers, loving hands that curled around him and made him feel safe.

* * *

Even though it rains the next day, there are plenty of kids running about Nikima's neighborhood, splashing in the puddles and building mud castles held together by nothing but sheer willpower.

Even under umbrellas, parents smile happily at their children playing. Akira finds himself watching too.

Nikima rushes over when he spots the familiar black-haired teen, waving at his friends near the jungle gym.

"They did it!" He cries, stopping just short of Akira. He's drenched from head to toe and he looks so happy about it. Even if his shirt, marked all over with hand-sewn stars, is clinging to his shoulders.

"What happened?" Akira asks.

"The Phantom Thieves changed my parents' hearts! They apologized to me, to everyone in the community! They said they would stop doing what they did and try to live a better life! Everyone's happy now!" Nikima grins, pointing at the kids behind him. "I even made friends because they stopped spreading rumors about me! They're asking me to sew them cool stuff too!"

"That's awesome." Akira smiles, folding his hands in his lap. A job well done indeed. His phone goes off in his pocket.

"What about you, Mr. Kurusu?"

Akira stops short of his pocket, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Are things right with you now?" Nikima waits knowingly, having seen that kindred demon looming over Akira's shoulder.

The answer he's about to give is cut short when he spots a familiar blond-haired individual jogging up to him, dressed in a purple jacket under his clear umbrella.

He comes to stop at the side of the bench, bending over to catch his breath.

"Man, foot traffic around here is dense!" Ryuji complains, pressing a hand to his bad knee.

"You're the one who decided to run here." Akira laughs at him, putting a comforting hand on his back.

Nikima seems to understand, smiling and waving as he returns to his friends playing in the rain.

"So it's all good now?" Ryuji's query is lowered.

"Mhm. And I have a good idea for food." Akira rises to his feet, hand slipping naturally into Ryuji's.

"Where to, your majesty?" His boyfriend bumps his shoulder as they walk.

"A ramen place."

The excitement coming over Ryuji is palpable.

And as they walk, the rain lets up enough to stream faint rays of sun down to earth, warming the concrete beneath their feet.

It makes Akira feel like he's walking on air, so light that he could just take off.


End file.
